Fission
by thome
Summary: Fission: Becoming two by the splitting of the whole organism. A rookie cop's mistake sends Grissom's world tumbling down. GSR.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything in this piece of fiction but part of the plot and a couple of characters. Anything that's cannon, I don't own. It's as simple as that.

* * *

"Hey Sara," Grissom called out to Sara as she passed his office, "you've got two DBs in Falcon Street, near the airport. There's an officer waiting for you." She stepped into Grissom office swiftly, and grabbed the paper slip that he was offering her distractedly, as his eyes feasted over a newly acquired entomology book. Sara smiled, he loved to watch Grissom when he was concentrated just like he was now he was now, he looked adorable. Scanning the surroundings for people, Sara had to resist the temptation to kiss Grissom when she saw Greg chatting with Archie just a few steps from the office. Well, she'd get to see him later, anyway. 

"Thanks, see you later." Sara waved goodbye before stepping out of the office, receiving only a small nod for a response.

As she walked to her towards her car, Sara felt a smile tug at her lips. The anticipation of a new crime scene always thrilled her and the knowledge that, when she got back home, she'd have Grissom waiting for her with a warm dinner, made her happier than she'd been in a long time.

The trip to her crime scene did not last too long, as there was surprisingly little traffic. As she parked, she could see a small crowd already gathering around the front of the house, where the yellow tape kept them at a safe distance. That was a phenomenon Sara had never understood, why people could enjoy themselves so much from the suffering of others. She could hear the hypocritical comments right now, it reminded her of a poem Grissom had quoted once when discussing the matter, 'Humans snuggled down the mess, in masochistic tenderness'.

"Excuse me, are you from the crimelab?" The voice of the young officer approaching her pulled her away from her thoughts. She turned around to face him, he was pale and quivery and Sara wondered whether this was his first crime scene. However, his voice was firm and that reassured Sara.

She nodded vaguely in response and showed him her ID. "Sara Sidle, CSI." He nodded back in approval.

"Officer Gerard O'Connor, first on scene. And the only one so far." He added after a second of hesitation, obviously annoyed. Sara, shook his hand, smiling a little at him.

"The bodies are in the upstairs bedroom. The neighbour heard some shots and alerted the police. I was near so I came as quick as I could."

"ID?" Sara queried.

"We believe that they are the owners of the house, Joanne and Gary Thompson."

"Okay, I'll go take a look." Said Sara, grabbing her kit before starting towards the house. "It's all been cleared, right?"

Officer O'Connor nodded distractedly as he threw a warning glance towards a teenage boy, who seemed to be getting ideas about jumping the tape. As she walked into the house, Sara hoped for the young officer's sake that more cops would arrive soon, because the crowd was growing and one guy wasn't going to put them off.

It was a small and dark house, probably old, but the way it was furnished gave it a homely feeling. Sara couldn't help but think that the only thing that seemed to contradict the peaceful demeanour of the house was the harsh smell of iron in the air, a smell that she knew only too well.

As she made way to the top of the stairs she looked around to see if there was anything out of place. Her brief scanning yielded no results.

As she entered the main bedroom the stench grew more powerful and she couldn't help but grimace at the sight that appeared before her eyes. There were, in fact, two bodies, one female and one male. The female, about thirty, was slumped against the bed's headboard, her hands seemed to be tied behind her back and there were a few bruises in her cheek and forehead apart from the obvious gunshot wound that she sported near her temple. Looking closer, Sara could see unburned gun power, it had been a close range shot.

As she was turning to examine the male, Sara heard a small sound coming from outside the bedroom. She felt her senses switching into alert for a few moments. She stayed still for a few moments trying to discern any noise from the deafening quiet of the room. The silence that had seemed kind of welcoming at the beginning, now seemed eerie and it made her feel uncomfortable.

A moment later, when the momentary fear had gone, she shook her head in disbelief at herself. She'd been doing this job for so many years, she should've grown accustomed to the small noises that were to be heard in every crime scene. The officer had already cleared the scene, there was nothing to be afraid of.

Putting her earlier uneasiness to the back of her mind, she turned back to the male. He seemed to be the same age as the woman but his dead seemed to have been much more violent. His clothes were covered in blood, and he sported multiple gunshot wounds near his stomach. Not to mention the bruises that littered his body, leading Sara to believe that he had been beaten, and judging by the teeth marks on knuckles, he had fought back. Sara smiled triumphantly, if he had hit his attackers moth there were good chances that there'd be traces of saliva, which meant DNA.

Swabbing would have to wait, though, as the coroner had not arrived. Turning back to examine the rest of the room her eyes fell on a photograph of the two people lying dead in the room. They looked like they were in the beach and they were both smiling happily. Sara turned to look sadly towards their flesh and bone counterpart.

Her back to the entrance to the room, Sara took her camera and started to take pictures. The grimness of the situation hitting her fully as she documented, once again, the result of another violent crime.

All that Sara felt before her body fell motionless onto the floor was a sharp pain at the back of her head, and then nothing.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

**Disclaimer: **I still don't own anything, not even the fifth season DVDs I was watching this morning.

**A/N – **Wow! I really wasn't expecting that many reviews, especially since it's my first attempt at a CSI fic. Thank you, you guys mad my day, seriously. I just hope this chapter will live up to your expectations.

He sighed as he stared at the body of the young woman lying spread-eagled before him, he couldn't believe he was in this situation. All because of that despicable, conceited, ridiculous man standing only feet away. He knew, this arsehole, upon hiring him that he was the best, so why, why in bloody God's Earth did he have to go and doubt his abilities at the very last moment, at the worst possible moment? If it weren't for this sleazy individual's impatience, rashness, they would be long gone with the pictures and not a worry in the world. But no, he just had to go and shoot up the girl and make him shoot up the guy, and now, there was a bloody cop standing downstairs and a crowd and this person, this woman, lying unconscious at his feet.

"Can't we just kill her or something and just leave?" He couldn't help but roll his eyes in exasperation when the man who had hired him spoke. Why couldn't he just leave this up to him? Who was the expert, after all?

"No, we can't." He stated firmly. "If we kill her, the cops will be after us like the bloody Baskerville hound."

"Well, there are two other dead people in here. I don't think it will make such a big difference." 

"Yes, yes it will, it always does when it's one of their own. Besides, the noise might alert the cop downstairs."

"So should we just leave her here, then?" He had to count till ten to refrain himself from turning around and shooting this pathetic excuse for a human being with the gun in his hand. His questions were driving him insane.

"I don't know, let me think."

"Well, we have to hurry, someone is bound to come soon."

"I know." He said slowly, making sure that this information actually penetrated this man's thick skull. "You know, I think we should leave her here, she hasn't seen our faces."

"Well, all right, then. Let me just pick the envelope and we'll leave." This time he couldn't help but smack himself on the forehead. Really, he couldn't see how this guy had managed to make so much money, his brain was probably the size of a grape.

"I though you had it. You had it when we were in the bathroom."

"Er… no, when we came here to get her, I left it on the table. Look, it'll only take a minute. Now stop with that attitude, or I'll just dock it from your pay. After all, I'm paying you to help me get the pictures, not to be treated like vermin."

"Well, go on. And be quick." As he heard the man scurry off in the other direction he started to tap his foot impatiently against the floor, while glancing at his watch, he was already late to meet his girlfriend. And then, suddenly, adding up to the list of things that had to go wrong that night, the girl on the floor stirred and slowly opened her eyes. Quick as a flash, he pulled his gun from his waistband and pointed it at her.

"If you make any noise or move, I'll blow your brains out, I swear. Got that?" He said in a dangerously low voice. He watched the woman on the floor nod slowly, her eyes looking at him, or rather at the barrel of his gun, fearfully. He smirked.

Sara's eyes were glued to the gun. Ignoring everything else, including the painful throbbing at the back of her head. Despite her job, she'd never had a gun pointed at her, and right then she realized that it was the worst feeling ever. Knowing that in a matter of seconds her life could end. That, just because of the small movement of a finger, she would never see Grissom again, or any of her friends for that matter. But mostly, the knowledge that whatever happened to her, her destiny, her life, rested on the hands of someone else and she had no control over it. It was that feeling of helplessness and vulnerability that was so unbearable.

"You wouldn't." Sara said softly, surprising even herself, because even though her eyes were glistening with tears, her voice was unwavering.

The man chuckled.

"Oh, and why wouldn't I, exactly?" He answered with a smirk.

Sara's trained mind registered that the man had a British accent, which, another part of her brain rationalized, wouldn't be of much help if he killed her.

"Because, your pistol does not have a silencer and a shot would alert the cops downstairs. And you wouldn't want that, would you?" Sara had no idea what she was doing, but she knew that her only option at the moment was to try and talk her way out of her current situation.

The man, however, did not have a chance to answer because that moment another guy entered, holding a manila folder in his hands.

"What took you so long?" The man with the gun barked.

"It had fallen behind the couch, it took me a while to find it." The man with the folder said almost apologetically. And then his eyes moved to rest on Sara, taking in her form silently. "She wake up?"

Sara watched the man with the gun roll his eyes and mutter a small 'yesss', almost if it hurt him to answer. Out of context, it would've almost seemed funny.

The man with the folder spoke again.

"So what are we going to do with her?" This time, the other man ignored him and turned to look at Sara.

"You're right. Stand up, slowly." Sara was puzzled, but did as she was told. Did this mean he wasn't going to kill her? "You," the man turned to his partner, without taking the gun of Sara, "tie her hands, behind her back."

"Wha… I'm the one paying you, remember?" The guy started to complain indignantly, but the look on the other man's face left no place for arguing, so he left towards another room, and ten seconds after he was back with a stretch of rope, which he proceeded to tie diligently around Sara's wrists.

"Now, let's go." The man pushed Sara forward. "And if you make a single noise or try to run, I will shoot you. And I don't care if it lands me in deathrow, you hear me?"

"Yes." She said quietly and started to walk into the direction she was being pushed.

A few minutes later, they had left the house through the back door and were walking to an old car parked a couple of blocks away. When they made it to it, the man with the gun, gave his partner Sara's gun, which he had taken away from her before they had left, and instructed him to climb into the back seat, where he then pushed Sara onto, forcing her to lie her head on the other man's lap.

Sara closed her eyes when the engine started, and thought back on her day and remembered Grissom's look of concentration as he read his new book and relished on that image, hoping that she would see him again, as the car sped off into the night.

**A/N – **Just one thing, I promise that Grissom will start to make an appearance next chapter.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

**Disclaimer – **Nothin' is mine. Sorry, folks.

**A/N – **So sorry for the delay, I've been kind of sick lately. That and I've had exams. Hopefully you'll forgive me. If you still need to hurt something, you can have a go at the streptococcus pyogenes that has turned my throat into his ( or rather its) living quarters, it might actually make me write faster.

Also, spoilers for the season 6 finale. Don't say I didn't warn you. Enjoy, mes amis!

* * *

Sara was extremely uncomfortable, they'd been driving for some time now, and she had not been allowed to switch positions. Her body ached from being in the same uncomfortable position, and the dull throb on the back of her head had turned into a fully-fledged headache, which worsened with every brisk movement the car made.

However, that wan not exactly what was occupying her mind at the time. Though she was trying to maintain a brave face, she could not suppress the tingling feeling of fear in her stomach that was growing every second. She still had no idea what they were planning to do with her, and she had no idea if anyone had even noticed she was gone.

She wondered what Grissom would do when he found out. _He'd probably turn every rock in the planet, looking for me_, she thought with a sad smile. She'd do the same thing for him.

In fact, she had no doubt the team would find her. They were the best CSIs in the country, hands-down. What worried her was that it might just be too late. Well, she grimaced, if they did kill her, she sure as hell wasn't going without a fight. At the moment, though, she was powerless to do anything.

* * *

Grissom arrived to the scene with no clear idea of how he'd gotten there. He'd probably broken about a hundred traffic laws. For all he cared, he could've broken three thousand; the important thing was that he was there.

Scanning the surroundings, looking for Brass, he couldn't help but go over the phone call he'd just received over and over again in his mind. For the first time in his life, as he heard Brass go on about how they couldn't find Sara, Grissom had been speechless. He'd just fallen back into his seat silently, feeling as if reality had suddenly slipped away.

He was still having trouble believing it. There were a million possibilities to why Sara wasn't in the scene. Yet, each possibility that popped into his mind seemed as unlikely as the next. Sara was not the kind of person to walk out in the middle of processing a scene.

"Grissom." Brass' agitated voice came from somewhere near him. He turned around quickly to face him, but neither of them said anything. Brass just nodded towards the house they both started walking towards it. They went directly upstairs, to the main room, the whole way in silence.

Brass gestured towards the room and allowed Grissom to pass first.

Until then, Grissom hadn't allowed himself to dwell a whole lot on the situation. He'd just focused on the next step he needed to take, get out of the lab, into the car, to the scene, so on and so forth. However, the moment he stepped into that room, the reality of the situation hit him like a speeding car. The moment he gazed down he could feel his insides fill up with lead, the feeling of worry turning into something stronger, into actual fear, as it finally dawned on him that Sara could be in real trouble.

* * *

They were driving away from the city and into the desert, and with each mile, Sara's stomach tightened even more. If they were going to kill her, the desert would be a perfect place; it could be a long time before anyone found her body.

Inhaling deeply, Sara tried to calm herself, panicking would do no good. She needed to find a way to escape the minute the car stopped. She had no idea how, though, since there were two men, both with guns, while she was unarmed and bound. The odds did not seem to be going her way.

"The prize has doubled." For the first time, in what seemed to be years, someone spoke. The man in the back seat gasped audibly at the statement before exclaiming indignantly, "But we had a deal, man."

"Look, I told you from the beginning I wasn't going to kill anyone, now I'm responsible for the death of a guy and soon I'm going to have to get rid of her," he nodded towards Sara, who looked at him with a scared expression – her worst fears had been confirmed, "who is, in case you haven't noticed, a cop. I'm going to need some compensation for that."

The other man seemed to consider this for a minute. At first it seemed as if he would yell at the other man but he just kept quiet.

After another half-an-hour in silence, Sara was starting to go mad. The anxiety was getting to her, the looming perspective of death, the idea that when it happened no one would know. When the car stopped, her heart almost stopped as well. They had gone off the main road and now were in a small dirt path in the middle of the desert.

* * *

Grissom stared at blankly at the small spots of blood, surrounding a small smudge on the carpet, lying near the broken camera.

She hadn't left of her own accord, he now knew that, there were no more what-if's now, there was no way she had just left to grab a cup of coffee, or to go get more print powder.

True, the whole room was covered in blood, but these small droplets did not fit with the original spatter, they had not come from the same source. Plus, they seemed fresh. Reaching automatically into his kit, he proceeded to take a sample of the blood, he needed to know whom it belonged to. Hopefully, it would belong to Sara's abductor. If it was hers... Well, at least there wasn't too much of it.

When he was finished up with the blood, he moved to her camera, picking it up with his gloved hands and examining it for evidence, trying to shun the images of Sara helpless and scared. Or worse… dead. He shook his head – he couldn't think that, _wouldn't_ think that.

A long hair on the camera caught his attention, it was Sara's hair length and colour. However, the camera seemed to be a weird place for it to be. Looking around the scene, a theory sprang to his mind. What if Sara had been hit, dropped the camera and fell, possibly unconscious, her head ending up near the camera? That didn't explain the smudge on the carpet, though. Unless… unless someone had turned her around, possibly moving her a bit.

As he was about to crouch, in order to look for other clues on the floor, he felt a warm hand on his shoulder, stopping him.

"Gil?" He heard Catherine's worried voice from behind him. He turned around and stared stoically at her, there was an unreadable expression on her face. "I heard, are you okay?"

He nodded, unsure of what else to do.

"Er…" Catherine shifted uncomfortably. "Are you going to be okay working this case?" From the moment he'd seen Catherine, he'd known that question was going to come. Yet, he still did not have an answer.

The investigator in him screamed no. There was no way he'd be able to remain emotionally detached in this one. Nick's had been hard enough. Yet, the person in him couldn't just give up and watch from the sidelines. Sara meant to him more than anyone in this world, and any other for that matter. She was his colleague, his student, his friend . But most importantly, she was the only woman he'd ever really loved. There was nothing he wouldn't do to get her back home safe.ly

He shook his head energetically, "I'm not going to stop now. I need to find her, Cath."

The sympathetic look on her eyes told him that she understood.

* * *

"Get out." The man that had been driving half-dragged her out of the car. This was it, she knew it.

They walked a few steps, then, they stopped. The other man had been following them closely, holding a gun to her back. The first man pushed her onto her knees roughly, pressing the other gun hard against the back of her head. Sara grimaced with pain, she was still sore from when she'd been hit.

She couldn't believe it, she was going to die. As tears sprung to her eyes she remembered the day Brass had come out of surgery, after being shot. She had told Grissom she was not ready to say goodbye. Now, she'd never get to. It was ironic, really. Years fighting crime, putting murderers where they belonged, and now, she'd die at the hands of one of them. Somehow it seemed fitting.

The men standing above her said something, but she didn't hear it. Images of her colleagues flashed in her mind, forcing her to remember their happy faces, their cries of joy as they broke a case. It made her remember Grissom and the nights they'd spent together.

It wasn't fair, she couldn't die now, not when she was the happiest she'd ever been. She'd always vowed to herself that if she were in such a situation, she wouldn't let it happen. Not without having her say on the matter. There was nothing to lose, really, if she fought, she was going to die, after all. Things could only get better.

Once again aware of what was happening around her, she heard the man with the gun to her head yelling at the other one, something about the money. The man turned around for a second, taking the gun off her as he gesticulated wildly. _Wrong move, buddy, s_he thought with a smirk. Without another thought, she quickly sprang to her feet and kicked the man on the groin.

Leaving him writhing in pain and the other one to shocked to do anything, she started to run as fast as her legs would carry her, hands still bound, following the small dirt road that they'd been driving on. She knew it wouldn't take them much time to react, but if she could put enough distance between then maybe she'd be able to reach the main road without being hurt. What she'd do then wasn't very clear yet, so she just focused on getting there.

The sound of a gun firing startled her. Apparently, they had recovered. He could hear the man she had kicked shouting loudly – again – at the other one and she could hear them running behind her. Thankfully, the bullet missed her.

They fired a few more rounds but they had a lousy aim and none hit their target. One did pass whizzing inches from her left shoulder, though, giving her quite a scare..

She was starting to get tired but she quickened her pace when she began to see the road. She was almost there. She could tell that her assailants were starting to lag. If only she could go faster, but her long legs were moving at their max speed.

So enthralled was she with her goal of reaching the paved road, that she didn't take any notice of the ground underneath her. One second, she was running, the next, she was toppling to the ground, having tripped on a small rock. Hands tied, she couldn't do anything to stop her fall and she landed face-first on the dirt. Coughing, she tried to get up, but her foot had twisted on the fall and she could feel the adrenaline leaving her body.

It didn't take long for the men to reach her. When they finally did, they were chuckling. Sara felt anger building up, she couldn't die.

"Did, you really think you could run away from us?" The man she had kicked taunted her with his British accent. "Well, I'm sorry, but now you've got to die, darling." She could tell he was pretty angry at her for kicking him and she noted with satisfaction, from the way he was walking, that it still hurt. He kneeled up beside her and shoved the gun to her temple.

She was going to die. This was the end of the line, there was nothing she could do now. She fought back the tears that threatened to come. If they were going to kill her, she'd die with dignity, or with as much dignity as she could muster, sprawled on the ground like that. She closed her eyes, taking comfort on the thought that she'd feel no pain, she'd die instantly.

"Frank, wait!" Sara heard the other man's voice, the bullet never came.


End file.
